But Someday, With Someone
by vkf173
Summary: The Java Junkies are finally getting married, but an unexpected visitor distracts Rory from the wedding preparations, Oh yea, and from her finace… I PROMISE not to make it too cliché or cheesy! Literati with Java Junkie undertones
1. While You Were Sleeping

A/N Hey Everyone!!! New project yay! I'm sooo excited! OK ITS IMPORTANT YOU READ THIS OR YOU WILL END UP VERY CONFUSED LATER~~ok, so in this Rory is a junior at Yale, Jess and her never got together and after he left to go live with his dad Rory hasn't seen him. SO she is still with Dean (Lits please don't kill me and Narcs, don't get your hopes up, I have a reputation as a Dean basher remember?) and they are engaged. The Java Junkie comes in b/c Luke and Lorelai are getting married. This story will also be kind of like 'Consider This' in that the chapters will all be POV but of a different character. Ummmmm I think that's it, ok on with the show!

Summary: The Java Junkies are finally getting married, but an unexpected visitor distracts Rory from the wedding preparations, Oh yea and from her finace… I PROMISE not to make it too cliché or cheesy!

Pairing: My god do you even have to ask? I'm the world's biggest Literati fan ever!

Spoilers: Everything has happened EXCEPT the kiss at the wedding, so Rory and Jess never got together…

SHAMELESS PLUG ~ I love you for reading this story, I love you more for reading my others also!!

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**Chapter One: While You Were Sleeping. . .**

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It was raining_. _

Not a torrential downpour or anything, just a soft rain that, if you happened to venture outside, was the kind to mist your clothing instead of soaking you through. 

My favorite kind of night.

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Not that I'm a huge fan of rain, but on these nights there were no parties or gatherings or anything else to do that involved an obligation to make an appearance and that leaves me with the happy comfort of staying at home, curling up with a book, going to bed early, and getting a goodnight's sleep. And under normal circumstances that is exactly what I would be doing, but these were not normal circumstances. 

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I sighed as I leaned back in my chair, rubbed my eyes, and arose to make my way over the random books and shoes belonging to various members of the household that had been carelessly dropped or thrown earlier that day; an action which left me with the task of navigating my way around carefully so that I didn't trip and impale myself on a stiletto. I made my way around everything without any major injuries and into the small kitchen that connected to the living room of the spacious New Haven apartment which I shared with five other Yale juniors. 

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My hand searched the wall for a second before I found the switch and flicked on the light, after which I moved to the coffee machine, taking and relishing what would be my third cup that evening before returning to my laptop to try to finish this godforsaken term paper which I had been working on for the past five and a half hours.

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I wasn't usually one to leave things like this to the last minute, I was actually one of the more whole heartedly studious girls in the apartment, second only to Paris, but lately things had been beyond hectic, and I just didn't have time to finish it between trips to Stars Hollow to help my mother with wedding preparations. 

I smiled happily as I drank my coffee, yes it's true my friends, the most oblivious couple in Stars Hollow had finally admitted their feelings for each other nearly two years ago and were to be married in one week. And to the astonishment of all the ceremony would not be including the expected rhinestone jean skirt or anything flannel.

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I sighed as I stared tiredly at the screen of the computer and, after a pause, I lowered my cup and began to type away again, carefully weaving words together into sentences and paragraphs which I hoped would blow my Economics teacher out of the water and make up for the fact that she had caught me snoozing in class two days ago. 

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About twenty minutes later I smiled triumphantly at my work and looked around the apartment, deciding immediately that I deserved a victory cup of coffee before retiring and trying to catch a few hours of shut eye before the shrill but reliable alarm clock that also served as one third of my trio of best friends and obsessive compulsive roommate, Paris Gellar, yanked me out of bed and dragged me to classes where I could get an appropriate amount of sleep while she took notes for me. Again sleeping in class was another habit I had taken up over the past three weeks that is not something I would usually do, but after this weekend the wedding would be over and I would be able to return to the unwavering structure that is my life.

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I was sipping the warm liquid contemplatively and staring out of the window when I jumped at the sound of running footsteps above me and directly following there was a descending sound of banging and then a loud crash on the bottom floor, and for the second time in a week I was enveloped in darkness as the lights flickered and went out.

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I cursed the insane tenants above us as I felt my way to the table where I had been working and slid into the chair, all the while wondering how in God's name pots and pans being thrown down the elevator shaft by a set of hyperactive ten year old twins could possibly cause a power outage, but it had before and it would again, so I settled down, drained my cup, and looked at my laptop. But as I glanced up all that I found staring back at me was a black screen.

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I felt myself freeze for a second before I shrieked loudly and knocked my coffee cup off of the table as I shot out of my seat, banged my knees on the bottom of the tabletop, and promptly fell back down again, the piercing sound of breaking glass second only to another frustrated yell flying from my lips. 

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I then set into panic and pounded angrily on the keys, begging for the screen to flicker on again and continued to whine loudly while trying not to cry at the aspect of another five hours of working when it didn't. 

"Gilmore! What the hell is going on??" I looked up at a sleepy Adair St. James, who had just emerged from her bedroom followed slowly by an eye-rubbing Nia Stevenson, who completed the set of roommates occupying the South Room.

I had met the two midway through my second year at Yale in the oddest of fashions, I had been riding in the car with Paris, trying in vain to block out the constant belittlement of a professor whom she had dubbed inadequate, when she rear ended the car in front of us and caused me to fracture my wrist for the second time in my life. To make a long story short, Nia had been driving around with Adair and, after they assured Paris it was no problem and had seen me into the ambulance, began to chat in a friendish style and we have been friends ever since. Adair had been the one to suggest the idea of all of us (Me, Paris, Nia, herself, and their two other friends Claire Hilton and Heidi Feliceta) finding a huge apartment somewhere and rooming together during junior year, and seeing as her parents offered to fund this, we had all agreed enthusiastically. 

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I snapped out of memory lane just then and whined, "The power's gone because the insane kids in 407 were throwing things down the elevator shaft again!!" She just stared at me blankly, failing to see the reason for the screaming that had woken her; Adair was one of those people who should be wrapped in caution tape for the safety of others when sleep deprived due to the fact that it took her at least an hour to process anything including movement and speech, (a deficiency which had lead to a spate of accidents in the past, a particularly funny one involved a poodle and a kid on a moped) so I shouldn't have been surprised when she failed to see what I was trying to convey and I moaned as I leaned back to clarify, "The power's gone and my term paper went with it!" I dropped my head into my hands and rubbed my tired eyes furiously. By the time I glanced up Paris and Claire had joined the group with tired mumbling and their own set of aggravated questions.

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Adair had just opened her mouth to yell at me again, but an extremely disgruntled Paris beat her to it. "Rory what the hell is going on?" she screeched and, not even waiting for an answer, continued "Its one in the morning Rory! It is one o'clock A.M. on the night before the exam in my ORP (Obscure Russian Poetry) class! I swear to God Gilmore you better have a good explanation for why I'm missing out on my solid nine hours of sleep."

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I was about to open my mouth to defend myself, ready and willing to point out that I had the exact same exam seeing the school seemed to thing the Chang and Eng idea was pleasing and had placed us in all of the same classes and that this was not the time to remind me of an impending possible failure, but before I could the lights flickered on again and so did my laptop. 

I felt the warm wash of relief spread through me as a screen popped up to ask me if I wanted to open a recovered document, and breathed a sigh of happy contentment as I saved my paper and got up, all the while thanking the God of technology that my fickle laptop had sided with me this time. 

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My happiness didn't last long however, because the second I had gathered the pieces of my broken cup and stood up my glee was shattered as I was hit with four identical lethally wrathful withering stares. 

I stood their nervously "Sorry?" I said with a small grin and the four of them turned in frustration and walked back into their rooms tiredly, each promising evisceration in the morning as punishment and mumbling various yawning comments illustrating my slow and painful death. I just smiled happily; all was right in the world again. My paper was back, I was caffeinated just enough so that I could still go to sleep, my mother was finally marrying Luke, and my head was still attached to my shoulders (the last one I credited to the fact that it was to early for my roommates to function properly, and the short circuit I had caused by jolting them so unceremoniously from their sleep had cut off their ability to phase into homicidal mode) 

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I tucked my paper into my bag for tomorrow, shut off the lights, and walked into my room to find Paris already snoring again. I just sighed with satisfaction and tucked myself under the covers, anticipating a final day of school before spring break and a return to Stars Hollow for the wedding.


	2. Ah, The Forklift

A/N-hey guys! Heres the second chapter! I hope you like it! Also, thanks to my reviewers, you guys are fantastic! 

Disclaimer – I own nothing . . .literally

Spoilers – umm…up until Take The Deviled Eggs, there was no kiss at Sookie's wedding and Rory and Jess never got together, leaving Rory still with Dean…but never fear, I despise Dean and am the world's hugest Literati!! Its like a sickness, there should be a medication to control my R/J obsession!

Shameless Plug ~ read my other stories (namely 'Could It Be Any Harder' and 'Without You' because the others are pretty cheesy)

Oh and by the way this is a PARIS chapter

Chapter Two: Ah, The Forklift 

The first one was Hello Kitty. A sickeningly childish contraption with pink and blue bows and a hat that served as a snooze button, but unfortunately, two days after it's purchase, she slammed the hat down so hard that jammed into the cat's head and stayed there, leaving the snoozer no longer able to function. And to Rory Gilmore an alarm clock without a snoozer is like coffee without enough sugar to kill a small horse, so she threw that one out.

 There was then a line of cartoon character clocks, which all met a similar end (battery and dismemberment) before her mother decided to bestow upon Rory the furry blue clock that had been her own for the past few years and had an alarm that resembled the purr of a cat flying high on crack, extremely shrill and crazed. This clock was the longest lasting one, remaining unharmed for three weeks, but I finally got so annoyed with the constant and incessant strident purring in the morning that I dissected it with my own hands; insane objects can drive sane people to do crazy things. 

So after the death of the fuzzy alarm clock we went through a phase where Rory relied wholly on me for her morning wake up call instead of just a secondary, but then I got tired of having to literally pull her out of bed. So instead of just forcing her to learn her lesson the hard way by allowing her to sleep in at the risk her academics, an action which would inevitably place me on her blacklist, probably somewhere between Darius Rucker and Ernest Hemmingway, I bought her a nice, sensible, generic digital clock which did not wake the sleeping with anything inane like animal noises or Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday to JKF. But that only survived one day before it was deemed to boring and was decorated with rhinestones, feathers, glitter, and lots of sparkling stickers with the word 'Foxxxy' on them. Sadly it then met the same horrible fate as the one that is lying in pieces at my feet right now. Glass strewn all over the floor, hands and face cracked and bent, and the actual body of the thing lay under the bed, its sides full of dents conceived on impact with the wall. 

I sighed deeply as I threw my pillow at her, "Get up, right now Gilmore, we have to go in thirty minutes" I then stepped carefully over the latest tragedy in the world of the clocks and walked into the kitchen. After pouring myself a cup of the fresh brewed coffee that the earliest of the early birds in the apartment, Heidi, had just finished making, I poured another mug and walked into our room.

I then proceeded to perform the only action that was an unfailing way to wake a Gilmore and hold the cup of coffee under Rory's nose until I received a little response, and then place it on the floor outside of the door (But still within smelling range), thereby ensuring that she would have to get out of bed to reach the coffee. 

Before I even made it to the kitchen table to read the morning paper I heard a shuffling inside of our room and smiled to myself as I settled down in a chair and Rory mumbled something like "I despise you . . . unconstitutional by way of cruel and unusual punishment." before grabbing the coffee and her clothes and heading into the bathroom. 

I was standing by the door, clothed, nourished, and ready by the time she got out of the shower and, for lack of anything more entertaining to do, I commenced the usual nagging. 

I still don't understand how someone can be so lethargic, and it continues to stun me that its Rory Gilmore who is the prime specimen of this pathetic ailment. She was always a stickler for being prompt, but over the last month she had been slipping a little what with juggling all of her classes, her fiancé who frequently was mistaken for Prince William accompanied by his white horse, and her mother's wedding, it was just very unlike Rory to actually cut it close with school. But at least after this weekend the wedding would be over and I would be able to go an entire morning without straining my arm muscles from pulling her by the feet out the door.

I frowned slightly at her as she appeared by my side, hair in a dripping bun and wearing a pair of ridiculous plaid socks with toes that had little faces grinning stupidly on them with a pair of flip flops. She smiled as she stood in mock attention "Lieutenant Gilmore, reporting for duty sir." She said thickly through a wide-mouthed yawn as she saluted and I raised an eyebrow, 

"Books?" I asked and she proceeded to stumble out what is the most absurd sentence spoken by a Gilmore in at least the past month,

"Right, I knew that, I was just . . . testing you. Yea, I was making sure that you would be uh, attentive enough to remember to remind me that I need to remember my homework." She said with a smile.

"You make absolutely no sense."

"Paris, its only four past seve." She said as she hiked up her sleeve and looked at her watch. 

I shook my head slightly, "What's your point? Oh, and make it quick because we have to go, no rants or diatribes about my incessant harassing."

She just sighed as she observed me for a second and then began to speak in a soft and cooing voice that one would have expected to hear from a mother explaining to her son that the world is round and the big sticks in the yard are called trees, "Paris, Our class is not for fifty six minutes. We live seven minutes from campus, exactly seven minutes, I know this because I was the unfortunate soul trapped in the car when you decided to drive back and fourth from the apartment to campus eighteen times before first semester, forcing me to take and record the times, and then average them out to find out exactly how long it is that you will have me confined in your car each morning to lecture me on my various deficiencies. My point is that even if there is traffic it will only take a maximum of ten minutes to get to school, meaning we have a little leeway here, I could be waking up now and still make it to class early. My point is there is no proof that we will not get the same wonderful education from the middle rows as from the front ones so there is no reason to wake up thirty minutes early for the good seats. And until there is tangible evidence stating those in the back end up worse off in life due to a deficiency in education I will continue to do the complaining that, in this situation, is completely justified.  My point is that you could double for Stalin when it comes to getting to classes; accept at least he put in the effort to, at times, mask himself in a pleasant and agreeable façade. My point is you are completely insane. And I am very very tired, and my lack of sleep is the reason why there is a possibility that this entire speech made no sense at all, so for now withhold the mocking, lets go."

I sighed again and pushed her out the door, "Kindly finish this ramble in the elevator." I said as I gave her the to-go mug of coffee I had poured while she was making the tough decision between plaid or polka dot socks. 

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"I must say, that was so much easier then I planned, I mean that all nighter I pulled just studying the grammatical context and word order of the sonnets and the origins of the titles of his collection of 'My Life On The Lake' poems was completely unnecessary." I said happily.

 I was in a very good mood, the test had gone well and I had finished with enough time to review twice, double check my spelling, and memorize some of the more difficult questions which would most likely be on the final. I then broke out of the usual euphoria of an academic success and looked over at Rory, who just yawned and glared at me,

"Paris, I know it was easy, I did not even study and I am beyond positive that I did well, please stop talking about the test. School is out for three whole weeks and I am going to relish the fact that I will not be fork lifted out of my warm cozy bed just so we can get front row seats to our first class. So, for now, I am placing a moratorium on the school talk. Oh, and another thing, eleven thirty is hardly an all nighter."

I frowned, "How long is this moratorium?"

She smirked at me, "Ask me again in thirty years."

I rolled my eyes and bent down to unlock my car door and slide into the driver's seat. I glanced over at Rory as I buckled my seat belt and, having no other topic to resort to since she had cut off my one best line of conversation, asked, "So, when are we leaving tomorrow?" 

Rory smiled a little at the reminder of her mother's wedding, "Eight forty five." 

I just snorted.

"Nine?"

This time I even put the effort into a slide-long satirical glance.

"Fine, Ten, at the latest." She said confidently.

"I thought you didn't want me to resort to the forklift."

She groaned but then relented, "Fine, if you can get everyone dressed and out the door by ten of nine then you can whip out the construction equipment, but just this once and then no more, for the entire vacation, three weeks."

I smiled, "As you wish." And then we lapsed into silence as I pulled into our parking lot and stopped in my spot. 

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"Rory! How did you forget where the key is?" I yelled, "How in the world does someone forget where the key to their own apartment is hidden?  My God, you know some days I wonder how in the world you ended up being my best friend!"

She smirked mockingly, "Because I compliment you. I add spice to your life. Plus you completely alienated everyone at Chilton to the point where they were making Halloween masks of you and selling them for top dollar, so I was one of only three left."

I exhaled angrily and commenced pacing again, not even bothering to pause and scowl at her for that last comment before I continued my tirade, "You know what? I think you should meet my grandmother. Her name is Edna and she has Alzheimer's, she's had it for years. Sometimes, on good days, she wears her bra over her shirt and constantly ends up at the police station because she has forgotten her address and misplaced the little card that carries it along with her name, home phone number, and a reminder not to walk up to pedestrians and ask them if they are voting for Roosevelt's fourth term! You two would get along great, both seemingly without a mind, but there's just one difference, she is smart enough to at least remember where she puts the hide a key!!" I shrieked, I had now officially surpassed annoyed frustration and was boarder-lining on murderous.

 We had been waiting outside of our apartment for over twenty minutes, banging on the door at sporadic intervals in a desperate attempt to get the attention of Nia, who, when she has the apartment all to herself, exercises her affinity for blaring the pop music she loves but is forbidden in our company and walking around in the Carebears pajamas with matching slippers that she swears she doesn't own.

Rory glowered at me, "You forgot where it was also!" she spat in an attempt to feebly regain the dignity I had stripped her of over the elapsed time. 

I stared at her for a second before proceeding in the calmest voice I could, which oddly got louder and more venomous as I went on. "Rory, you bought this hide-a-key yesterday, and painted it yellow with orange spots even though I begged you not to, then proceeded to hide it somewhere on our floor, yet in that time you refrained from telling me where exactly you hid it! I know I'm a genius Rory but even I have trouble remembering something I never knew!"

I watched in what would be a bemused expression if I hadn't been so aggravated as my best friend tried to formulate a sufficient come back under my fierce glare, and was in the middle of opening and closing her mouth for the fourth time when the elevator door opened and Claire stepped out, wielding a key and a confused look.

"What are you two doing?" She asked through perfectly glossed lips. 

Claire was one of those girls who, upon first glance, may be mistaken for, as Rory fondly puts it, Trixie McBimbo. She actually really reminds me of Louise in ways, her hair is styled in a curly blonde bob cut which was previously a deep, chocolate brown before it was subjected to a ruthless massacre by way of a very large dosage of hydrogen peroxide, her brown eyes sparkle kindly under long black eyelashes, her voice is always warm and somewhat breathy, and for some reason has a problem with keeping the same guy. Not that she's slutty, just easily bored. There, however, is one major difference between her and the girl who was one of my closest friends in high school before she went to Sarah Lawrence and I came here, which is that Claire is extremely serious about her work. She is smart, assiduous, and dedicated and can often be found hold up in her room trying to study while the other girls in the apartment go out to party on a Saturday night. I really admire her for that, and it's nice to finally have a study partner on those nights when I used to feel so alone. 

"Muhammad Ronald Regan Ali over here lost the hide-a-hey." I said bitterly with a jab of my thumb, an action only good for receiving another spiteful glance from Rory.

"Yes and for the past twenty minutes I've had the will to live beaten out of me by my dear friend Uday Hussein. And by the way Uday, there's a difference between losing something and temporarily forgetting where it is, its not lost its just misplaced." She said sourly as Claire unlocked the door and we walked into the apartment.

I just snickered as I dropped my bag and bent down to pull the plug for the stereo out of the wall and cut off a ballad from imbecilic singer about her diary, receiving an annoyed whine from Nia as I countered, "Right, Ok sure Edna, the artist formerly known as Rory."

"Ha ha very funny, Prince references, you couldn't at least find a more tasteful insult?"

"And upon that suggestion I would like to call your attention to the definition of an insult; they are not supposed to be classy."

Just as the verbal sparring was reaching a boiling point Heidi stuck her head out of the kitchen and yelled, "Hey, no insults before dinner, or before I've had enough caffeine to keep up and put in my two cents where its worth it." She said with a distracted wave of a slotted spoon. 

I smiled a little at her before turning to the mail that was lying on the table by the door, "Hey, why didn't you let us in if you were here?" I shouted through the kitchen door. 

"Paris, did you not hear the volume of the music?"

"Right, so what are we having for dinner?"

"Pasta with vodka sauce and mozzarella cheese." 

I could almost hear her smiling through her words; Heidi is a cook at heart. When I first met her the only thing I appreciated about her was the fact that she was smart, yet after living with her for nine months she has grown on me. Heidi couldn't be more different from me in the sense that she is more of an earthy person, completely indifferent to politics and world events, she is never even remotely eclectic or trend oriented, always listening to music from the sixties, and usually adorned in simple jeans and a tee shirt with a picture of monkeys or the ocean on it. She, like everyone in this apartment, is beautiful. But the thing that differentiated her from someone like Claire is that she has never really invested herself in her looks. Her long black hair is nearly always found pulled up in some sort of messy bun or hidden beneath a bandana while there was never a smidgen of makeup on her face, not that she really needed it. Her Catherine Zeta Jones looks never really required much highlighting. But what I love most about Heidi is she makes the best vegetarian dinners I have ever tasted. Her passion is food and she always took great pride in her meals, and seeing as nobody else in the apartment should be allowed near pots and pans with seasoning in hand without around the clock supervision, an extensive manual, and one finger on the speed dial for the fire department, nobody objected to her self proclaimed role as the in house lead chef.

Before I could voice my approval of tonight's menu I was cut off by Rory's voice, "Hey guys, have you started packing yet?" She called out as she walked into our room to change out of school clothes. Once she was greeted with a unanimous "No" (accept for me, I have my bag sitting by the door already, I packed it two days ago, as for Rory's she had clothes at her mother's house so all that she needed was the small duffle of toiletries, underwear, and shoes that was right next to my bag.) she began her lecture. "Fine, but just do it tonight. We have to be ready to leave by ten of nine tomorrow (lots of complaining groans and a few flying carrots of protestation flew at her through the window into the kitchen space) and there is no way that we will have time to pack tomorrow morning. Mom is expecting Paris and I at ten for a final dress fitting and she wants you all there to give your opinions, then her bachelorette party at seven, so we need to be on time for once in our lives. Just promise you will all have your bags packed and by the door by the time you go to bed or I'll sic Paris on you tomorrow morning."

At this point I interjected, "Hey, I am not yours to just sic on people. I may be the only on who has the sense to prepare but that does not make me Peaches the camp counselor. It is not my job to make sure you are all bright eyed and bushy tailed by the time we have to go." I said sarcastically.

Rory just scowled at me for the umpteenth time today, "Remember the forklift." She said simply.

"Ah, the forklift, I forgot."

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A/N please, as always, review. Oh, and for those who do not know, Darius Rucker is the lead singer of Hootie and the Blowfish.


	3. A Remembrance Of Things Past

A/N~~HEY EVERYONE! First of all I think it is important that I apologize for the extremely long wait between chapters! I AM SO SO SORRY I just had a lot of things going on, from atheistic and sexist teachers who seem to take pleasure in dumping piles of homework on us to spring sports starting up to lots of personal issues that I don't care to post on the internet. But never fear! I am back and hopefully I will be updating regularly, though I can't promise anything because finals are looming closer and closer each passing day. Ok, now that that's out of the way I have a bone to pick. It really bothers me that someone out there has the gall to completely trash my story and not even leave their email address so I can respond. YOU COWARD! Are you afraid that I'll tear you apart because you ripped up my story? C'mon I'm not like that! I would much rather you tell me who you are so I can ask you why you hated my writing so much, then maybe I can improve on it so it doesn't 'suck, suck, suck' so bad. 

And in response to 'Me Literati' actually YES I have seen the Gilmores put coffee in their sugar. In episode 2-20 (Help Wanted) and I quote . . .

            LORELAI: How am I gonna fit my three sugars into Barbie's Malibu dream cup here? It'll be all sugar and no coffee.

         RORY: You may prefer it that way. 

Disclaimer ~ I still own nothing, I am poor, sue me if you want, it's a waste of your time.

Spoilers ~ OK THERE HAS BEEN A CHANGE!!!! The kiss at Sookie's wedding did take place! And everything has happened, accept that Rory and Jess never got together, but instead became closer friends because of it. 

Shameless Plug ~ I REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK~!!! Especially of my story 'Invictus'!!! Does it suck or do you like it! Please R/R!!!

AND ON WITH THE SHOW . . . . . 

Chapter Three : A Remembrance Of Things Past  ~  (Rory POV)

Six duffle bags, five seats, seven people.

Not the greatest combination for a road trip, well, mini road trip actually. The drive would probably only total about an hour and a half, less if it weren't for the fact that we had to pick Lane up at the train station in Hartford, which was about thirty minutes out of our way.

I sighed sleepily as I shifted to try and get comfortable, and action that only succeeded in jamming me further into the door of Adair's Ford SUV.

I was now beginning to regret the decision to take this car instead of Nia's Suburban. At this point anything was better then being sandwiched between Claire and the window, even endless marathons of the bane of my existence, also known as pop music. 

You see the rule is driver gets to control the music choice, and if we had taken Nia's car, it would have been her who was driving and subsequently we would have all been subjected to the American form of Japanese water torture, shrill voices that are just as maddening without the damp. 

So we made a unanimous decision to cram into this five-seater, a choice that, by the endless shifting and sighing, I could tell we were all regretting.

It actually hadn't been that bad for a while, just minor cramping and no need for someone to be lying across the four people in the back seat, but that is until we had to squeeze Lane in. 

She had just stopped when she saw the car outside the station and started laughing, her amusement escalating when the doors opened and she saw four people sitting in three seats, two of which had their duffle bags on their laps because they wouldn't fit in the trunk. Yet the second she realized she had to now sit like that the situation suddenly became less humorous. 

So now here we are, seven people sitting in five seats, and I am currently resisting the temptation to bash my head through the window in an effort to knock myself out so I don't have to sit through the extreme discomfort for another second, a thought that was becoming more and more appealing as the lack of blood flow had caused my left leg to loose all feeling.

I was trying to shift to a more comfortable position when I became aware that someone was giggling.

I tried to look around to see who it was, but because of the fact that Lane (who had been lying across our laps) had her feet in my face and Heidi's duffle bag was jammed in next to me, I couldn't move, yet the laughter became louder and more giddy and I could soon tell who it was from the sound of her voice.

For some sudden, incomprehensible reason, Nia had burst out laughing. I could now see her head for the fact that she had doubled over and had her head in her lap.

"Nia!" I hissed, "What is _wrong_ with you?" I was completely dumbfounded as to how this situation could, in any universe, be construed as funny.

"I _hate_ you guys." Nia forced out through her insane laughter, words sharp and forced through gasping breath.

"We could all be sitting _comfortably_ in _my _car, but because you _retards can't stomach a little bubblegum music were _squished _into this friggin _peapod _of a car . . . I __hate you people."_

And she just kept on laughing hysterically as the rest of us continued to stare in disbelief at the scene of laughter that had been ripped out of one of those cheesy teenage comedies, before Lane began to giggle and then raised her hand and said, "I second that, God it feels like we should all be wearing big red noses and face paint, getting ready to be announced in the center ring. You're all crazy, even _I could have dealt with the pointy haired high pitched boys of N'SYNC for an hour if it had meant not needing the Jaws of Life to get me out of this godforsaken sardine can."_

She then lifted her hand to look at me, "_What was going through your head when you helped in the decision to take this instead of Nia's car? Why did you not just take two cars? Or you could have asked prince charming to borrow his truck!" She said, still lost in a giddy haze of giggles._

I sighed as I leaned my head back and tried regain circulation in my foot (which was currently being flattened under my own bag) "It was ten of nine in the morning and the coffee machine picked today of all days to have a nervous breakdown and start hissing and spraying us with hot water. I was not in my right state of mind, you could have convinced me to do anything. Caffeine withdrawal is not a pretty thing, I wasn't in my right state of mind, Paris had to stop me from walking out of the door with my hair still in a towel."

Lane smiled again as she leaned back to put her head in Heidi's lap where it had been for the past twenty minutes, she suddenly turned thoughtful before she voiced an open question directed at my roommates, "Hey, are any of your boyfriends coming?"

I could almost hear Paris scowl from the front seat, "I don't have a boyfriend." She said curtly, and Lane shot me a questioning glance as if to say, 'What about Jaime?' I just grimaced at her and nodded my head. 

Jaime had broken it off with Paris nearly three weeks ago, an action leading to one of the lengthiest tirades against the incompetence of the male sex that I have ever, or ever wish, to hear. And even though I shook my head violently and even went as far as to make those stupid slashing motions across my throat, Lane asked sympathetically, "Oh Paris that's too bad. What happened?"

I could almost feel Paris harden through the passenger seat in front of me as she responded coldly, "Nothing happened, I just realized that not all men can be a candid copy of Snow White's prince."

Thankfully, upon sensing that we were entering a danger zone, Adair abruptly changed the subject, placing all ears on me instead of Paris by saying, "And speaking of which, where is the prince Rory? I thought he was driving up with us also."

I was about to answer before Lane cut me off, "You were planning on cramming _another_ person in this car? And a person who is by no means vertically challenged and is in fact frequently referred to as 'Paul Bunion' for height reasons? What, did you undergo some kind of mental scarring since the last time I saw you?" She inquired incredulously, a look of utter disbelief smeared all over her features.

I laughed a little as I chose my response, finally settling on "Actually no, no mental scarring, but apparently what they say is true, crack _does_ render areas of the brain useless, obviously I was most effected in my brain's ability to judge depth and volume. Stay away from drugs kiddos." I replied sardonically before turning back to Adair's question, "He was planning on driving up with us, but his little brother or sister is due any day now and his dad is out of town, so he went home for a few days to take care of his mom. He said he should get back to Stars Hollow by Friday, Saturday at the latest."

It was then that the inevitable cooing began.

"Aww. Big Strong Dean going home to care for the family, that's adorable." Heidi said.

I smiled embarrassedly as I looked down at my hand; specifically the ring that ornamented my finger. A solitary square diamond, simple, but classy. Dean had always been just that, simple and classy. He was sweet though. I remember the night he proposed to me, the nervous look of anticipation glinting in his eye, the way he made sure everything was perfect before he popped the question in a traditional way, down on one knee in our favorite restaurant. It wasn't the proposal I had been picturing in my head, but it was perfect in its own way. And I said yes without a moment of hesitation; my mind and heart racing simultaneously, causing me to feel so light that I contemplated attempting to fly. 

And it was due to my new found light mood that I restrained from committing either murder or suicide for the rest of the trip. It's funny how fantasizing about dresses and flowers, vows and tulle can distract a girl from the fact that her left leg is completely dead from lack of circulation. But alas, those thoughts are only good for distraction, a distraction that abruptly ended as I stepped out of the car in front of the diner and promptly collapsed to the ground as I tried to step forward. 

I pushed myself back up onto my feet and shook my leg sourly, ignoring the torrents of laughter coming from my companions and the disapproving look from Paris. 

"I'm glad you all liked the show, I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking and being the concerned friends I know and love." I remarked, but my mood was suddenly lighted by the screech from the diner door, yet I ended up on the ground again.

"Welcome home Lorelai Leigh Gilmore!" My mother shrieked as she streaked toward me and tackled my to the ground with an enormous hug.

"Mom!" I sighed exasperatedly, "I was here four days ago. It's not like I'm Jessica Lynch, there is no need for celebration."

She frowned at me, "Well go ahead and ruin my fun then." She said as she pulled herself off of the ground and helped me up after her.  It was then that she caught sight of my friends trying to extricate themselves from the car and grinned at me, "Oh Rory, you shouldn't have, really. I told you this wedding is going to be small and simple, no need for a reunion of the Ramones minus Joey, a coffee fountain, _or_ the ever popular magical Volkswagen with clowns act. I thought I made this clear" 

"Yeah, well, you only get married once, theoretically, and you should have the best mommy dearest." I retorted as I helped Lane squeeze out without and major injuries. Mom laughed slightly and welcomed them all with a smile, "Hey you guys!" She said happily, "Glad you could join us! You can put all of your stuff in the apartment above the diner, I had Luke clean it up for you guys and we put in some air mattresses because there are only two beds and a pullout up there right now, but the sheets are clean and the mice are friendly, unless provoked of course." She smiled widely again as she helped all of us carry the bags through the diner and up the narrow staircase.

"Ok," She said "Here we are." And she proceeded to drop everything in the middle of the floor and turned around to give us more instruction. "Alright, you can figure out the sleeping arrangements yourself, but Paris, Lane, and Rory need to be unpacked and downstairs five minutes ago so we can get to the dress shop. You all are welcome to join us, but in case you don't want to then you can explore the town. Just ask my fiancée Luke if you need something to do, I'm sure he'll be willing to put you to work. Oh, and for those of you who haven't met him, just look for the flannel version of The Unabomber minus the explosive mail, plus some scruff and a backwards baseball cap that seems to be permanently fused to his head." She called as she crashed down the stairs.

"So, who is sleeping where?" asked Heidi, looking at me questioningly.

It was then that I paused to take a full look at the apartment, it had been so long since I had seen it, and even longer since I'd seen it clean. Once Luke had moved in with mom they used his apartment as storage, whenever I had been here there were always boxes strewn about and things shoved in haphazardly. Now however, everything was clean and tidy. The floor and counters were visible, and all of the furniture seemed to be in the exact position it had been the day I last saw it like this, the day before I left for Yale. My eyes drifted slowly over the chairs and table, into Luke's old room and the double bed Luke had abruptly purchased shortly after he and mom had gone apartment shopping once, and then into the room to the left of the main room. That room seemed to be the neatest, the bed was the same single as always with the same sheets and comforter, the wardrobe was almost empty save for a few forgotten shirts and a pair of sweatpants, a shelf held a number of old books that had also been left behind, and the light on the bedside table was switched on, producing a soft iridescent glow. 

This had been Jess' room.

Then my mouth was speaking, though without instruction from my brain. "I'll take this bed." I said softly, and motioned toward the single that had belonged to my friend from so long ago. 

Everyone nodded and began to bustle about, claiming beds and unpacking clothes.

I, however, was lost in a trip down the haze of memory lane. I had walked over to his bed and dropped my duffle, and then proceeded to look over his books, my fingers running along their spines. I smiled to myself as I came across a dusty copy of _The Fountainhead_ and a picture of a lunch on a bridge flew to mind. It had always been so strange with Jess. We had always shared this intense bond, one that I usually don't care to describe because it's hard for me to find a way to actually put our connection into words, all I can say is that it was special, and it was deep. I honestly can't depict it further then that, other then it seemed virtually unbreakable and almost always platonic, and on a more outward level we had always connected through our literature and music. 

We had kissed once also, but for some reason it didn't interrupt our friendship. We dismissed it as a temporary lapse of judgment while I had been on hiatus with Dean, and continued to be just friends. Although I do remember how different that kiss had been. Not different in a bad way at all, actually completely the opposite, because for those few seconds I remember feeling completely alive. But I also remember the weight of guilt that had spread over me when it was over, because I was in love with Dean, and that horrible feeling stamped out anything that sparked inside of me as a result of that kiss.

After that incident I remember spending countless hours in this very room just sitting quietly and reading or listening to music together. Yet nothing was ever really the same, because I could never look at him the same way. Before I kissed him he had been Jess - my friend who was always so complex but to me so simple, but after it was Jess - this overwhelming paradox of emotion who was in many ways attractive.  

As I look back I guess I had always been attracted to Jess, and I knew that he had always felt the same way, but we never acted on it apart from that one time, and instead just allowed for a beautiful friendship to blossom from the feelings that bubbled inside. 

Yet not all good things can last, and Jess, while extraordinarily smart, was never the bookworm and refused to graduate high school, so Luke sent him away to live with his dad. We had lost touch then, and I hadn't seen him in nearly four years.

I sighed at that last memory, and allowed my inner movie screen to play back our final moments together and last words to each other, spoken just before he climbed on to the bus to the airport.

_"I'll miss you." I said softly, smiling awkwardly as I said it, my eyes flicking constantly from the ground to his face and back again._

_"I know." He replied, his mouth curving upward in a small smirk as he sighed deeply, his own eyes never leaving my face as he spoke in his steady and confident voice. "I'll miss you too."_

_"But you will write, or call, won't you?" I asked, succumbing to an odd childish demeanor that longed for something to hold on to._

_"Yea, I will." He reassured me, his discomfort with goodbyes painfully obvious in his slouched stance._

_Here a hush overtook us and I glanced around at the town center, allowing my eyes to roam over the trees and benches that had been shadowed by the dusk that was fast approaching. For a few moments we sat quietly, just enjoying the silence that enveloped our encounter, but I finally looked up when I heard a slow grinding in the distance. Immediately my eyes found the gleaming yellow circles of the headlights on his bus, their two lonely rays fighting through the mist that hazed the streets after an afternoon rainstorm._

_"So, I guess I'll be seeing you." I said softly, though I knew somewhere within that those words were not to be the truth of the matter. He nodded his head a little, and glanced up at the fast approaching headlights. Both of us were dreading that bus, because neither wanted to let go of the relationship that had formed over the two years we had been so close, and so neither he nor I allowed 'goodbye' to slip out. _

_I looked at the headlights as they drew near and willed them to stay away, but they did come, and I became aware of Jess leaning down and picking up his suitcase._

_As he looked at me one final time before boarding, I was seized by this sudden impulse, and I laced my arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug._

_He stumbled a bit, seemingly surprised at the sudden contact, but soon he allowed himself to respond, and held me for a few precious moments as I tried to muster the strength to let go while at the same time trying to hold on to the memory of our friendship._

_We did finally part, and he threw his duffle into the baggage compartment beneath the seats, and looked at me for one last second before he smiled nonchalantly. "Don't look so sad Rory, I'm not dying. This won't be the last time you see me, I promise you, you won't get off that easy." And our smiles widened together before he climbed on to the Greyhound and into his seat. _

_I remember waving at him through the window, and him smiling sadly back before the bus groaned into gear and pulled away._

I smiled again at the memory of him. It was one I used to visit often, but through the years have thought about less and less. Yet being back here in his room brings everything rushing back, from the smiles and the comfortable silence, to the unspoken feelings, and as I gazed at his things I smiled widely. For some inexplicable reason I felt like something big was about to happen. That cliché twist that always factors into a wedding of any sorts was soon to befall us, and for some reason I was extraordinarily excited.

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A/N ~ As always, please review! And PLEASE read my other stories! I need to know what you think so I can stop writing if you think I suck! And also, please, if you hated my story please give me some advice on how to improve instead of completely slamming me.


	4. I Should Do This More Often

A/N ~ OK first of all I just have to say . . . YES!! ggfan4ever, I know you aren't a coward, welcome to the world of the twisted mind games I play so well. I just knew that if I said something like that then you would respond, oh and lo and behold, in your response I got what I had been looking for all along. Constructive (maybe not is your mind but to me it was) criticism! There ya go, now wouldn't it have been easier to jut tell me why you don't like my story in the first place? Now I can improve! So thanks hun! Oh, and if it makes you feel any better, the Rory and Dean engagement will not last long, and there is a reason why it is Dean and not somebody else that I made up. And also, I'm sorry you don't like my demeanor, but that is who I am and my writing is a reflection of that. I enjoy being intelligently (I hope) cynical and sarcastic. If you don't like it then I don't understand why you would bother checking back when I update.

ALSO ~~ To everyone who was complaining about the lack of Jess, you don't have much longer to wait! While he is not in this chapter I promise he will be making his entrance soon!

Spoilers/Disclaimer ~ Who really reads this stuff?  Honestly, is you feel the immense urge to know the details read the previous chapters.

Shameless Plug ~ I have other stories, all literatis, check em out!

Chapter Four : I Should Do This More Often   (Lorelai POV)

Ok, honestly, this whole wedding this is fantastic.

I mean who wouldn't enjoy all of the preparations, like picking out colors and bridesmaid dresses? Or fantasizing about just how to walk down the aisle . . . Or in my case over the bridge? Or picturing the perfect wedding scene in your head only to see it unfold before you?

And cake, cannot forget the joys of cake.

Though that was a hard decision, I lost sleep whilst debating Mocha Crunch Cream vs. Raspberry, though the taste testing made it all worth it.  

And everyone who has even known me is aware of the dangers that ensue when I am sleep deprived . . . Do you remember the wicked witch from Oz? Or perhaps that monotone guy with the freakish earpiece and a tendancy to be invincible _and possessing an annoyingly persistent, 'screw with me and you will have your ass handed to you in a pretty basket with pink ribbons' attitude from The Matrix? Yea just picture them combined. It's never a pretty sight._

But anyway, they should really make you pay for taste testing. I mean I swear I must have put the Inn back an entire week with the five different tests I had. 

A little secret though . . . I pretty much narrowed it down to those two after the second test, but Sookie's cakes are so unbelievably wonderful and heavenly that I would just say that I needed another test whenever I had a craving for massive amounts of sugar, and then only feel slightly guilty later for making her work on the samples.

Yet in the end I just couldn't choose, so now I have an extremely unique cake, one layer Mocha, and then a layer of Raspberry, Mocha, Raspberry, Mocha, Raspberry . . .  and so on.

I need to stop thinking about this, its making me hungry.

Ok, what else is fantastic about a wedding? Well, it's also very relaxing, I enjoy being spoiled.

I mean for the last week I don't think I have done anything more strenuous then getting up to change the channel, or leaning forward to blow on my toenails to make them dry faster. Oh, and lifting my arm to fill the coffee cup about every ten minutes or so. How could it get any better then that?

I really should do this 'getting married' thing more often.

People say that it's supposed to be stressful, but I really don't know what they are talking about. Maybe the fact that all of the guests live within a five mile radius and the actual amount of people only amounts to about sixty is why I am so not stressed. But I really don't feel like thinking about this funny little conundrum, it will only lead to a migraine. 

Believe me; concentrating on something that is not meant to be thought about in great detail will lead to intense headaches. The last time I nearly overdosed on Excedrin while trying to figure out exactly how powder and water can result in one of the world's greatest creations, otherwise known as Jell-O.  Anyway, moving on.

My my my, I do love my dress.

Very very pretty, long and white, lace neckline, indescribable.

I know that this dress fitting was really supposed to be only for Paris and Rory, but I couldn't resist trying on my dress one last time before the big day. Or before tonight when everyone is sleeping and I have the time to slip out of bed and really enjoy the sight of Mrs. Luke 'Trekkie' Danes in the mirror wearing all white, whichever comes first. 

Not to mention the fact that the girls practically _begged for me to show it off, I mean how can I say no to those adorable college girl faces?_

So here I am, standing in the dressing room, just admiring myself in the floor length mirror, thinking about Luke, smiling to myself, fantasizing about the 'I do' I've waited for my whole life-

"Lorelai!! Get your butt out here and show us that dress!

-having a heart attack induced by a vicious and sudden pounding on my dressing room door.

"Jesus you scared me!" I said laughingly as I opened the door and allowed Rory's friends to see the dress that had so far only been viewed by myself, Sookie, and Rory.

Silence.

Hmm, I wonder if this is a 'wow she looks fantastic, I want to look just like here on my wedding day' kind of silence or a 'quick, point me to the nearest bathroom because she looks so hideous I may vomit' kind of silence.

Hopefully not the latter.

"So?" I question nervously "What do you think?"

More silence.

I hate silence.

It should be against the law.

"Wow, Lorelai . . ."

Oh, so they do speak! I was beginning to wonder.

"You look spectacular! I mean it, wow. There are no words!"

I smiled widely at this, "Why thank you Heidi!" I said happily, basking in the euphoria of my impending wedding and the shower of compliments that were now befalling me.

"So are you excited?" Heidi continued.

I smiled widely to myself, one of those huge and stupid smiles that seem to always make an appearance when you are thinking about the person you love, "More then you will ever know." I said lightly.

I could see that she was about to speak again, but all of the sudden her face went completely slack, her mouth slightly ajar and a look of intense admiration on her face. Suddenly confused, I glanced at the faces of her three companions, and found that they to were wearing similar expressions. So I turned around to see what they were staring at so avidly, and my smile widened as I saw my little girl standing timidly behind me next to Paris.

Both girls were wearing identical dresses. And both looked beyond fantastic. The dressed themselves were cut a little below the knee, and since it was a spring wedding I had decided on a neutral shade for the bridesmaids, a light champagne, you know, that color that suits everybody. It took me ages to find that dress, because I needed something that would look marvelous on everybody, from darker skin tones like Paris, to the ultra fair of Rory. The neckline was low and v-necked with thin straps that cris-cross a few times over the open back, and the material was a chiffon-esque shimmering fabric that seemed as light as air. 

"Wow, Rory, Paris, you guys look wonderful." I said happily "And those dresses suit each of you perfectly, an excellent choice if I do say so myself." I added.

"Thank you," Rory replied, her sentiment echoed by Paris, both speaking in that sheepish voice of someone who knows they look stunning but are too modest to acknowledge it.

And so both girls stepped to my side so we could present ourselves to the audience, the entire bride's side of the wedding party save for Sookie and Lane, who would have been there also accept for the fact that Sook had to stay at the Dragonfly to cook because a magazine columnist was coming by to review her food, and Lane had a mandatory brunch date with her family. 

"So?" I asked "Do we pass inspection?"

More goddam silence.

Oh well, hopefully the looks adorning their faces are indicators, if so, we must be the most beautiful wedding party to grace this Earth, second only to Princess Diana and Gwen Stefani of course.

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Ok, I officially change my vote.

Weddings are not the best thing on this earth, oh no my friend that coveted position belongs solely to the bachelorette party . . .

And the great Long Island Iced Tea.

The Long Island Iced Tea is to a bachelorette party what cake is to a wedding

Except better, because when eating cake it would be considered odd to see orange pigs with wings jitterbugging on the dance floor to Fuel. Yet with two wonderful Iced Teas in you, what I'm now witnessing is completely normal, if not expected. 

Hmmm…I do think I spy with my little eye Madonna serving Marvin Gaye a martini up at the bar, accept she's wearing something on her face, it looks somewhat like the mask Michael Jackson made Prince Michael and Paris wear that time when he took the kids to Europe.

But then again, who knows, I am just happily ensconced in the blithering world of the tipsy verging on wasted.

" . . . and so the guests will arrive at about noon, there will be kind of a cocktail hour that will be the limbo between the arrival and the ceremony, which will begin at two. Then at about four thirty we'll all head back to the Dragonfly for the reception." I tuned back in to hear Sookie informing all of the girls of the plans for the big day. And I was about to interrupt with an extraordinarily witty and probably incoherent quip, but was cut off.

"The Dragonfly? I thought the reception was going to be at Luke's!" Said Rory confusedly as she placed her own martini back on the table and proceeded to swivel it about between her fingers . . . something she always does whenever she has a bit of a buzz on.

"Yea, well, it was. . .but we weren't sure if it could hold everybody, and so we did a trial run. We promised the construction workers at the Inn that we would order two 6 foot sub sandwiches for lunch tomorrow if they agreed to come and stand inside for a few minutes so we could see if sixty people could fit comfortably, and you could barely move two inches. It was so tight that Kirk was actually lifted off his feet when Moses and Allen, the two biggest guys, tried to move, and when he was dropped down again he sustained a minor fracture to his big toe." Sookie replied, trying to hold back a smile that was threatening to come forth at the memory of the insane event.

"Dropping Kirk caused him to break his toe?" Paris questioned amazedly.

"Well when he was dropped he kind of took down a chair with him, and things went flying as well did people, and Moses kind of stepped on Kirks toe with this cowboy boots, and there was blood and whining . . . not a pleasant memory." Now she couldn't bold it back anymore, and Sookie giggled a bit as she recalled the scene of Kirk on a stretcher with his leg in an enormous sling, insisting that his entire foot was shattered.

"Poor Kirk, I never even knew that he's a construction worker." Rory mused.

"Kirk is everything, you should know this after growing up with him working at every job in town." This time I managed a response, but it must not have come out the way it sounded in my head because I was getting weird looks from the rest of the girls. Then again I could be imagining it, I know not everything I'm seeing is really there, because what would Olivia Newton John be doing in a bar with Cameron Diaz? And why on earth would Cameron be dressed as a rodeo clown?

Humm . . . blitzed now, yep, am now definitely blitzed. 

Oops…It seems that its time to leave.

"Rory hunny, could you come here for a second?" I asked sweetly as I swayed a little while standing. And my very wonderful daughter obliged by walking over.

"Yes Mr. Lewis" She replied cutely, her expression showing signs of obvious amusement at my current state.

"Hey you know what, he may have been bombed out of his mind half the time, but I bet that Sinclair threw one hell of a bachelorette party." I said sweetly, "Because that is the point of these little shindigs daughter of mine. If luck has it I won't remember any of this." I said happily as she stopped in front of me.

"Closer."

She stepped forward.

"And a little closer."

Another step

"What, are your legs not functioning properly or is there a reason for the baby steps?"

And she took one final step before I slung my arm over her shoulder and smiled as she groaned in protestation, I however ignored her and said, "There we go, now be a good girl and take mommy to the car, oh, and if I suddenly get the urge to enter myself in that pole dancing contest in the strip club down the drive, turn me away from the dark side."

"I promise." She said as we struggled together out of the club and into the waiting taxis.

On the way home I grinned to myself as the others chatted away, less then one week from being Mrs. Backward Baseball Cap.

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A/N ~ For those of you who don't know, Prince Michael and Paris are Michael Jackson's kids who always wear some kind of mask or another. And for those of you who plan on bitching about that fact that Lorelai probably wouldn't get drunk in front of Rory, I know, it was an iffy choice. But just think like this ~ if you recall) at Lorelai's last Bachelorette Party she was drunk. She claimed she was 'Tipsy but just short of seeing pink elephants' and Sookie told Emily that the only thing she had consumed so far was 'about a quart of wine' and then she ordered up her Long Island Iced Tea. So add that to the fact that Lorelai and Rory are best friends and feel comfortable doing anything together and Rory is now over the legal drinking age, i just figured it wasn't that out there for her to be drunk.


	5. Certifiably Insane

A/N Hullo again Ladies and . . . erm, well . . . Ladies (I've never met a guy who reads Gilmore fanfic, but if they exist then hello to you to!) anyway, here is chapter 5, it's a LUKE POV and . . . dum da da da enter Jess!!! 

Disclaimer/Spoilers ~ If I owned this why in God's name would I be writing fanfic about it?? And the spoilers are the same, check past chapters.

Shameless Plug ~ Still looking for feedback on 'Invictus'

LUKE POV

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**Chapter Five : Certifiably Insane**

Dammit.

What the hell am I doing?

What the hell was I _thinking?_

I am now officially and legitimately insane, soon to be committed and wearing a white straight jacket, drooling into a cup and eating lunch next to a guy who chews on his wrist and barks at people who ask him to pass the salt.

I mean, come one, me, Luke Danes, local diner man and spokesperson for the Organization Opposing All That Is Sentimental, agreeing to _write my own wedding vows?!?!_

How am I supposed to figure this out.

Not only do I have to find the perfect and loving thing to say, but I have to say it in front of a room filled with sixty people. And to make it even better Taylor and Bootsie will be there. My life will be over. I will never be taken seriously or allowed to be remotely gruff again after professing my love like that.

At least when it was the standard 'To have and to hold, till death do us part' spiel I didn't have to come up with it or even say it. All that would have been my responsibility was two small yet life changing words. 

But no! No no no! Tradition is apparently overrated, sure ninety percent of the wedded couples in America stick with the simple version, but they are infertile boring wusses, half of whose marriages lasted no longer then a stick of Big Red or the Beanie Baby phenomena! That's just too simple and predictable, and god forbid that Lorelai Gilmore be accused of possessing either of those two traits. 

That's it, I am moving to Oregon.

At least there I can get the kind off assistance I need without breaking the law.

I wonder when is the soonest opening Kevorkian has in his schedule. I mean you know, between banging a tin cup against the bars of his cell and secretly tunneling out with rock hammer and hiding the escape route behind a poster of Raquel Welch.

I glanced down at my paper and threw my pen across the room in frustration, the only word emblazoned on this document that is supposed to be meaningful and perfect was the opening statement 'Lorelai' proceeded by what seemed like miles and miles of blank white paper, just staring up at me.

I have never really seen an inanimate object mock someone before, so I can't really judge it, but I seriously believe that I saw that enormous blank space laughing at my failure to fill it. 

I sighed as I reached behind my head and stretched my arms in an attempt at procrastination, and then I looked at the garbage can in the corner, around which were three more pieces of paper, all balled up and containing the exact same word.

Actually, that's a lie, my super creative juices actually got stimulated on one of them and it goes as far as to say 'Lorelai, I' before being rejected and crunched into a ball.

I can't deal with this.

It was here that I got up once again and began to walk around the diner, wiping down tables, refilling salt shakers, and trying to scrape the mystery gunk off the ceiling, a result of Kirk's latest money making endeavor.

This one was supposed to be a ball that flew higher then the ones that you get out of vending machines that can be sent to Mars if you bounce it hard enough, BUT this one also serves as a water bottle and soap dispenser. 

Yet, as always, there was a slight problem with his little invention, and as soon as the thing hit the floor it exploded and now this bluish green slime seems to be amalgamated with my ceiling.

I was in the middle of balancing myself precariously on a tipsy ladder that allowed me to reach the goo, when there was a sudden tapping on my door.

Short, efficient taps.

I immediately groaned, what the hell is Taylor doing out of bed at this time??

I glanced at the clock angrily before turning to look at the person outside my door, and, as I thought, it was Taylor, but surprisingly there were three other men with him.

I made my way to the door and unlocked it reluctantly, Taylor's mob outside my diner at 10:00 P.M could only mean serious pulling out of my own hair was soon to come. 

"What are you people doing?" I questioned incredulously.

"Move aside Luke." Taylor said happily, as he pushed me aside and proceeded to come into the diner and begin to unpack the two bags he was carrying on the counter.

I just glowered as the rest of them followed, Andrew, Bootsie, and Kirk, the three horsemen of the apocalypse.

They had begun to pull out streamers and party favors when I intervened. 

"Taylor?! What the hell are you doing?" I demanded angrily, feeling my boiling point being fast approached.

"Isn't it obvious Luke?" Taylor said proudly, his arms sweeping wide in order to gesture to pink streamers, poppers, and Kirk blowing on one of those annoying party whistles, "We are throwing you a bachelor party!!" 

And in T minus 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

BLASTOFF!!

"WHAT?!?!"

"Oh Luke, don't get to upset, it's tradition! Here, take a hat!" Kirk said as he pulled a spare out of his pocket.

"I WILL NOT take a hat!" I shouted angrily as I glanced down at it, "Especially not one that is wishing me a happy sixth birthday!" 

Kirk shriveled at his failure to procure the correct party favor "Well they didn't have a 'Happy Last Four Nights As A Free Man Who Will Soon Be Married To The Woman He Has Loved For Eleven Years' hat, believe me! I searched high and wide! I even tried to make them myself! But there was this accident with glue and the fact that it sticks really well to hair and . . ." He trailed off as he pulled off his own hat to reveal that half of his head was shaved "The only way to get it out was to amputate my beautiful hair!!"

I just stared amazedly at them, "Amputate?" I finally asked amazedly "Bachelor Party? Stupid hats?" 

"Luke! Get in the spirit of things" Bootsie yelled "Look! I brought the music!!"

And that was when I completely lost it, the second he pressed play I was done for. I can't stand this, I think I almost went into cardiac arrest as Bootsie pressed the play button and . . . .

_ "Oh everybody have fun tonight  
Everybody have fun tonight  
Everybody Wang Chung tonight"_

"Get the hell out!! NOW!!" I screamed, my extreme hatred for this entire situation finally bubbling over. That music was the last straw.

And a grumbling group of defeated party planners began to trudge out, and after a few seconds I was left only with Kirk.

"You to Captain" I said angrily.

"Well, actually Luke, I was hoping that you could help me out." He said.

"No, absolutely not." I replied automatically.

"But why noy?" He whined

I just stared at him furiously as I pointed to the crap on my ceiling, "_That's_ why not!" I practically shouted. Yet Kirk just remained as passive as always.

"No no Luke! I was actually wondering of you could tell me where the good wilding goes on in Stars Hollow. You see, my curfew is seven thirty so I am never around when the late night raves start, but tonight mother allowed me to stay out until eleven for your party, but seeing as you have rejected out very thoughtful and planned out offer, I have an hour to get crazy" he said, using air quotes to emphasize the last two words. 

I just glowered at him silently, and he nodded.

"Very well then." 

And he left.

I leaned on the door as I locked it behind them. This entire town should be locked up and studied at Bellvue. Sometimes I even wonder why I stay here.

I sighed as I sat back down to stare at my blank paper, and was about to start doodling when the phone rang and I jumped slightly.

"Luke's" I answered gruffly

"Hullo Lucas!! How are we tonight?" I smiled a little as I heard her familiar voice, but then, upon remembering that I am Luke, let the grin drop from my face and resumed my usual attitude.

"Not much, actually I just got to kick out Mr. Sweater Vest and his henchmen, so I'm in a fairly good mood." I replied

"Really? What were they doing there so late? Isn't it past Kirk's bed time?"

"Well actually, they were trying to throw me some kind of bachelor party, so apparently Kirk's curfew was amended."

"And you kicked them out? You mean my Luke didn't jump at the chance to receive his final lap dance from another woman?"

"I don't think there was time allotted to that in the agenda, the musical chairs and pin the tail on the donkey pretty much filled up the schedule."

"Ah, I see."

"Yea."

"Well I was actually calling to ask you if you could do me a favor and ask Rory for my hair curler, I left it up there this morning. Oh, and while you're up there could you check on the girls. You know, make sure that they have all of the necessities, you know, sheets, towels, enshrined picture of David Bowie."

"Lorelai, you checked that last night, the towels part anyway."

"Just humor me."

"Fine."

"Okay, and Lukey? However tempting it may be I want you to refrain from being too crotchety and alienating them, they are coming to the wedding after all."

"Thank you for the input, I'll try."

"Your welcome, I have to go, but I just wanted to tell you that I was surfing the channels at the elder Gilmore's house whilst mi madre once again attempted to talk me into wearing a Diana-esque train, and I came across a marathon of old Star Trek episodes!"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Fine, just though I'd let you know."

"It's been noted."

"Ok, I'll see you at home. I love you Spock."

I smiled happily, "I love you, too."

I hung up the phone then and made my way upstairs slowly, enjoying the usual cloud of contented happiness that always follows a conversation with Lorelai, even though lately she has been milking my goddam Star Trek phase relentlessly.

I reached the top of the stairs and rapped on the 'William's Hardware' door.

"Rory? Its Luke, can I come it?" I called.

"Yea sure, come on in Lucas!" I grimaced at the name as I pushed the door open.

"Hey Luke!" Rory said happily as I entered to find all six of them sitting in their respective beds and either watching old Taxi reruns or painting toenails or doing that weird thing girls do when they sit behind one another and play with each other's hair, but the one who could be the bastard offspring of Benito Mussolini and Margaret Hamilton was snoring and Rory was lying on her bed, reading.

"Whats up?" She asked as I walked toward her.

"Well I'm actually up here on an errand for your mother. She just wanted to make sure you guys were comfortable and wanted to know if she could have her, um, well she left something for her hair up here this morning and she was wondering if you-"

"Her hair curler?"

"That's it, she asked me to get it for her before I went home tonight."

"No problem," she said as she reached over the side of her bed and yanked her bag of the floor. "Let me just find it."

I nodded as I looked around the apartment, and my eyes found a place to rest when the blonde girl shrieked "Oh oh! Go back! Adair go back to channel 47! That was Sulu!"

Rory looked at me mischievously, "Yea, Claire likes Star Trek also Luke, I think you two would get along."

I rolled my eyes inwardly as I was asked a question by Claire.

"Oh Luke! Were you a trekkie?" 

I was about to open my mouth to tell her no, before Rory cut me off.

"Yea he was, apparently one year he wore the same Captain Kirk shirt everyday."

And all of the girls laughed a little as there was a knock on the door.

I grunted in response to the giggles and said, "In an effort to remove myself from this conversation I think I'll go now, and I might as well get the door also." And I reached out to Rory, who handed me the curling thing and went back to her reading as I turned to the door. 

I opened it as I called a goodbye to the girls. I turned to face the person who had come to see them, expecting Lorelai, but when I turned around, 

Oh . . . 

My . . .

God . . .

"Hey Uncle Luke."

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A/N ~ dum dum dum!! Suspense and cliffhangers!! Sorry!! I'll try to have the next chapter out ASAP, and I think it's gonna be a Jess POV but I'm not completely sure. Anyway, c'mon, hit that little review button, you know you want to all the other kids are doing it!!!


	6. Tradition

A/N ~ Please! Put down those stones! I'm sorry its taken so long! I was suffering from a severe bout of writer's block!!! Anyway, here it is, the return of Dodger in the Jess POV, I hope its ok! Please, as always, leave reviews! Tell me whether you love it, hate it, or whatever! Special thanks to my girl Stew Pid for proofreading for me! And on with the show!!

Disclaimer/Spoilers ~ Check other chapters, nothing has changed! 

Random Rant ~ I HATE THE WB!!! They cancelled Jess' spin off! Oh well, maybe now he'll return to Gilmore Girls

Shameless Plug ~ I would love you forever and  always if you R/R my other stories, especially Invictus.

**Chapter Seven: Tradition(Jess POV)**

Not one thing about this town has changed.

Not one.

You would think after four years that _something might appear somewhat differently, but no. Even the grass looks the same. _

Even in the dark I can tell that this entire town is still caught in a time capsule of a perfection rivaling that of Pleasantville. It's sickening. I mean, what normal town in America is one hundred percent free of trash or grime? It's completely unnatural. I honestly believe, and have for some time now, that at some point the inane residents of this Silver Hills Outpatient Center are going to impose open executions for those who spit their bubblegum on the sidewalk, and Stars Hollow will undoubtedly be the cause of the apocalypse, an event triggered when Taylor is woken up by a band of teenagers 'street slaloming' after his bedtime. 

I snorted incredulously as I disembarked from the dusty old bus, carrying nothing but Ferdydurke under my arm and that same tattered old duffle over my shoulder. 

I watched the bus pull slowly and laboriously away and here I am, standing alone again under a streetlamp giving off a dim glow in the pitch black of night. Nobody knows I am here, and honestly, if they did I doubt they would care. Actually, that's a lie, they would care. My presence would influence the entire town to lock its doors for the first time in four years. I sighed a little as I shifted my bag from one shoulder to the other, and began the short walk to Luke's.

The short walk that took twenty seven minutes. 

I just couldn't bring myself to walk in there, so I took detours. I rounded Stars Hollow in its entirety twice, the entire time failing to find one alteration to its setting.

So here I am now, standing completely still, watching him through the window. He's talking on the phone with someone, deeply involved in what, for Luke, would be considered an animated conversation. I think I actually saw him laugh a little, but no need for alarm; it could have been a grunt. I shifted nervously as I watched him hang up the phone and shut off the diner lights before trudging up the stairs to the apartment.

It's now or never.

And still I can't move.

I'm not really sure what is so foreboding about entering that diner, but there is something telling me to turn and run like hell. Though that's not very different from anything I usually feel, being that thoughts along those lines are usually my first instinct in any situation.

Still, this time it seems different, and I was just about to turn and walk back to the bus station when I stop my hand, my fingers just inches from the duffle that is slumped sullenly at my feet.

I have nowhere else to go.

And so I push through the apprehensive cloud that seems to have encased me, and allow my feet to carry me to the door.

My hand reaches out and before I know it I'm climbing the stairs, my legs as heavy as lead, a weight increased by the thought of having to face my uncle again after all this time. 

I'm not one for goodbyes, and I never have been. I can't even stand the emotionless and obligatory handshake at the departure from the household of a coworker or friend. I'd much rather just slip out unnoticed and by no means missed.

And Luke knows that now. After all, I left without a word early that morning in late May. 

Actually no, that's not true.

There was a word.

In fact, there were two.

"I'm out."

And that was it. I walked away from Luke, from Stars Hollow, and from her, and I boarded a plane that would carry me into something new. 

And now I'm back, and I'm standing before the 'William's Hardware' sign on the door.

There are voices floating softly through the oak and glass of the door, and they all sound high and light, feminine actually.

Huh.

Luke must be experiencing the joys of late night Cinemax, because there was no way that he actually had numerous amounts of women in his apartment at this time. 

I smirk to myself a bit as I raise my hand and rap on the textured glass before me, waiting for the inevitable uncle/nephew awkwardness that was about to occur.

The door swings open, and . . . 

"Hey Uncle Luke."

And then silence. . . 

And more silence. . . 

I hate silence . . . 

"Uh," how very intelligent of you Uncle Luke. Next thing you know, he'll be wearing a loincloth and banging stones together to make fire. 

I smile at that Luke/caveman picture in my head. It really fits actually. He already has the grunt and the head scratch down to an art.  

And then, as my extremely intellectual relative is trying to figure out how to make words out of sound again, I notice three girls sitting on the couch behind him. 

What are three girls, who look about my age, doing sitting on my uncle's couch? 

But before I get the chance to ask and, being me, throw in several lewd and sarcastic comments involving a whore-house,  a voice calls out from the side room of the apartment, "Who is it Luke?" 

That voice sounds oddly familiar.

"Its. . . its uh . . ." Luke mumbles inanely as I enter the apartment and begin to walk slowly toward my old room, aware that at least four pairs of eyes are drilling into my back as I go. But before I can make it there, the bodiless voice calls out again, and this time it seems to be getting closer as it carries on. 

"Luke? Is it my mo-" But the sentence is never finished, because before she can complete her last thought I round the corner and we crash into each other.

And we stand there for a second, neither moving, but she is still so close that I can feel her breathing into my chest, and nobody speaks until . . .

"Jess?"

Oh my god . . .

She backs up slowly, pushing long brown tendrils of hair from her face as she stares at me with those eyes that are still so genuine and sanguine. "It is you!" she exclaims after a second, and then she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me into a hug.

It takes me a few seconds to reciprocate for the fact that I'm still shell shocked by seeing her again after all these years, but I finally pull my jaw from the floor and my voice back to my throat, 

"Hey Rory."

She backs up slowly and stares at me, like she doesn't yet believe that I am standing before her. I shift a little as she looks me up and down, her eyes finally resting on my shirt and staying there as she speaks softly, "You haven't changed at all."

"What makes you say that? I haven't said more than two words to you. You couldn't possibly pass judgment that quickly."

She cocks her head to the side as she points to the saying on my shirt, "Well I can at least tell that you are just as cynical as always."

I look down, 

_'The beatings will continue until morale improves,' Is inscribed in fading gray lettering on the front of my black tee-shirt just above the skull and crossbones._

"Well, what can I say?" I asked, still a little uneasy.

She smiles widely at me, and for a second there is a silence where all just observe one another. Then Rory seems to come back to her manners and looks around. "Oh, um, Jess these are my roommates," she says, motioning to the rest of the girls sitting around the room. "This is Heidi Feliceta, Adair St. James, Claire Hilton, and Nia Stevenson, you already know Paris." 

I looked around the room, finally noticing all of its occupants (Pairs was snoring on Luke's old bed) and I nodded at each girl as Rory introduced them to me. When she was finished she turned to her friends, "Guys, this is Jess Mariano. I know I've mentioned him to you. He's a good friend from when I lived in the Hollow." And I was greeted by four identical smiles and a few waves. After this nobody seemed to know what to do, so Rory turned to me and said, in what would seem to be tradition, "So, Hi."

I exhaled a long breath, "Hi." 


End file.
